


Complicated

by tsuristyle



Category: SMAP
Genre: Cohabitation, Early Morning Pontification, M/M, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 19:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8930653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuristyle/pseuds/tsuristyle
Summary: And now here he was, practically living in Tsuyoshi's apartment, in Tsuyoshi's bed, like that was where he belonged in the world and if the world disagreed then it could just fuck off.(Written February 2013.)





	

Tsuyoshi tucked his knees under the kotatsu blanket and leaned on his elbows, absentmindedly fiddling with his empty teacup as he waited for the kettle to boil. The thought that he should probably fix something to eat crossed his mind, but drifted back to whatever corner it had come from, unnoticed. There were other things on his mind, namely, a certain long-haired bandmate who was once again fast asleep in his bed, snoring lightly and presumably still hogging the covers.  
  
This was getting complicated.  
  
He wasn't sure when exactly it had started-- well, not _this_ , he remembered the first time they'd done _this_ with perfect, vivid clarity-- but he wasn't sure when it was that he'd started to be attracted to said bandmate, or when said bandmate had noticed, or when said bandmate had decided to do something about it because lord knew Tsuyoshi didn't have that kind of courage. And then there was the question of how long it was going to last, and whether this was even a something that _could_ last, and of course the most important question of all, the one that had gotten him up at seven in the morning to ponder in his living room when the sheets were still warm and cozy and he didn't have to be anywhere for hours, the massive, looming question of why on _earth_ sexiest-man-alive Kimura Takuya even wanted to be in his bed in the first place.  
  
The only thing he was really sure about was, well, the sex.  
  
 _\--shoved against the wall, he could barely even breathe, Kimura's teeth scraping his ear whispering obscenities that made him even harder--_  
  
He looked down into the empty teacup, cheeks flushing. It was good. _Really good_. It was, without the slightest doubt, the best he'd ever had. He'd always known he was a little masochistic, it probably had something to do with the role he naturally slipped into, especially around Kimura-- but he hadn't realized exactly how much he _enjoyed_ it.  
  
He just wasn't sure what to make of it all, was all.  
  
After the first time, catching their breath on a hotel bed at one in the morning, Tsuyoshi had expected Kimura to leave. With a smile or with a frown, either was equally possible for how unfathomable Kimura was to Tsuyoshi, but nonetheless to pull on his jeans and his t-shirt with unintelligible English on the front and walk out the door like the god of casual sex Tsuyoshi had always imagined him to be. What he hadn't expected was for Kimura to pull the sheets up and stretch out alongside him, one tan and muscular arm flung possessively across Tsuyoshi's pale chest. He was still there when Tsuyoshi woke in the morning, and still there the next time it happened, and the next time after that, too.  
  
And now here he was, practically living in Tsuyoshi's apartment, in Tsuyoshi's bed, like that was where he belonged in the world and if the world disagreed then it could just fuck off.  
  
The vibration of footsteps brought Tsuyoshi back to reality. Kimura was standing in the hallway, looking like he wanted to tell the world to fuck off.  
  
"Tsuyoshi," his bandmate mumbled, squinting blearily. "Water's boiling."  
  
Tsuyoshi realized the kettle was practically shrieking and hastily scrambled up, turning off the gas and filling the little teapot he'd set out. He carefully carried it out to the living room; Kimura had curled halfway under the kotatsu, the blanket pulled up to his shoulders.  
  
"Work?" His bandmate's voice was hoarse with sleep.  
  
"No," Tsuyoshi replied, setting the teapot down. "Sorry I woke you up."  
  
Kimura rubbed a hand across his eyes and squinted up at him, but didn't say anything. He held the edge of the blanket up.  
  
Tsuyoshi hesitated, and settled for tucking his knees under the offer. "I can't drink tea lying down, you know."  
  
"Screw tea." Kimura stretched his arm across Tsuyoshi's lap, fingers curling over his hipbone. "Back to bed."  
  
"I couldn't sleep," Tsuyoshi told him, pouring tea into his cup distractedly and then realizing it was still too weak. "You don't have to stay up, though."  
  
Kimura was quiet for a while, long enough that Tsuyoshi wondered if he'd fallen back asleep. Then: "You're worrying about something."  
  
Tsuyoshi bit his lip; what if he had it all wrong? What if this was just-- "It's okay, I just didn't feel like going back to bed."  
  
Kimura was silent again for a moment, frowning at him. "Do you want me to leave?"  
  
"What?" Tsuyoshi looked down in alarm. "No, no, that's not what I meant, you can stay as long as you like."  
  
Kimura lifted his head, fixing Tsuyoshi with as sharp a look as he could manage at that hour. "Do you _want_ me to stay?"  
  
Tsuyoshi faltered under the look, focusing on his teacup instead in a spiral of second guesses. "If you want to, I mean, you don't _have_ to, I don't mind if you don't actually want to."  
  
" _Tsuyoshi_ \--"  
  
"Sorry-- I mean--" Tsuyoshi fumbled with the cup, burning the tips of his fingers. "I mean, I want you to stay, I just wasn't sure if you really wanted to stay or if you're just here because-- because--"  
  
"Of the sex?" Kimura pulled him down, his arm suddenly strong and tense across Tsuyoshi's chest, holding him close. "Tsuyoshi." His other arm joined the first, wrapping Tsuyoshi in a tight embrace. "I'm here because I _like_ you."  
  
Tsuyoshi leaned back into Kimura's chest, feeling his bandmate's warmth through his t-shirt. From there, he could see a guitar case propped in the corner; Kimura had brought it over a week ago, strumming familiar melodies until Tsuyoshi gave up trying to read and just lay on the floor and listened. His bandmate made it seem so easy. "Why?"  
  
He realized, the moment the word was out of his mouth, how unfair a question it was-- he liked Kimura, he'd liked Kimura since years ago and probably would for years to come, he might even _love_ Kimura, but how could he find the words to say _why_? There was no rhyme or reason to it, he just did.  
  
Maybe it wasn't so complicated after all.  
  
"Because you're Tsuyoshi," Kimura replied, his breath warm on the back of Tsuyoshi's neck. He pressed his lips there in a sleepy kiss. "Is that enough?"  
  
Tsuyoshi looked down at Kimura's arms around him and decided that yes, it was enough, it was _more_ than enough. Screw tea, screw worrying over questions that didn't have answers. This was where Kimura had decided he belonged in the world, and this was where Tsuyoshi belonged in the world, too. And if the world disagreed, well...  
  
He yawned, and rolled over in Kimura's arms. "Let's go back to bed."


End file.
